Chapter 2: Let Her Sing For You Monsieur

As they approached the newly restored Opera Populaire, Christine's mouth hung open. This was not the destruction they'd seen a few years past. The gold statues were a little tarnished, but restored. The steps, the widows…everything that was burned was rebuilt. It was like watching a dead relative resurrect from the grave. Christine shivered.

"Mama?" Clarissa's brown curls shook as she bounced along with Christine in her arms. She stroked her head and inhaled the powder she'd put on her earlier.

"Yes, bebe?" Clarissa's little brown eyes searched her mothers.

"Don't be sad, Mama." She patted Christine's arm. Christine laughed.

"I'm not sad, little one. But I would like a hug." Clarissa hugged her with her childhood enthusiasm of being useful. She then pointed up to the giant building.

"Pretty."

Christine nodded. Yes, it was pretty. It was everything she remembered. And how she longed to sing inside it's walls again. She glanced behind her at the carriage that had dropped them off, and Erik's head peeked out. She waved him back, and the carriage drove on down the cobblestones.

She went inside, carefully checking for any rotten or broken floor boards, but found none. When she reached the inside she found Msr. Reyer and Madame. Giry arguing to one another in a heated battle of words.

"…and I know that Carlotta will sing it no matter what. Miseur Firmin will not allow.." Reyer stopped when he spotted Christine, and her child on her hip. He blinked.

"Mademoiselle…er Daae? How are you, my girl." He walked over and took her hand in his spindly grasp.

"Bonjour Monsieur Reyer. I am a Madam now, but still called Daae. This is my daughter, Clarissa." His eyes flashed at hers and he smiled.

"Well it's nice to meet you Clarissa. Christine…we are so lad to see you!" Madam Giry walked up casually, but still smiling. She reached out for Clarissa, who came readily to her Aunt's arms.

"Clarissa, my little poppet, how are you?" Clarissa smiled and stuck a finger in her mouth. As she interacted with Clarissa, Christine looked them both over.

Monsieur Reyer was more stooped, and had a few more lines. He made some excuses and left them, probably to go inform Monsieur Firmin.

Madame Giry had a few more gray hairs weaved into her generous braid, but still looked the same. She let her staff rest against her leg as she talked to Clarissa. Her dark dress, still a sign of mourning for her husband, hung loosely on her ballerina's frame. She was still training.

She glanced at Christine.

"You look very well, my dear. I hope you've been practicing and haven't let your body go?" Christine nodded.

"Good. Well then, shall we?" Giry dropped little Clarissa to her feet and praised her on her ladylike behavior in her very pretty frock. Clarissa beamed.

As Clarissa skipped ahead, and marveled at statues and the large banister leading to the balcony, Christine whispered to Giry.

"Erik talked to you didn't he?" Giry looked at her and nodded. Christine sighed and wrung her hands.

"I told him I'd do it without his help. I just want to sing again…I want to practice with the other girls." Giry nodded.

"And you will. But don't blame Erik, he is doing what's best."

They walked to the backstage, and Christine found many new faces, some old, milling about. They were waiting for Giry's arrival with the manager to announce the new opera, and the new cast. Giry walked with confidence through the dancers and chorus. She motioned for Christine to stay behind the curtain, where she could peak through and watch the proceedings, without being too obvious.

She shushed Clarissa, who stood at the ready to crate mischief. She pointed and shook in anticipation at the other dancers in their pretty outfits. She opened her little mouth at the old sets and props, including a large Elephant replica, made before the fire for Hannibal. Christine bent over her.

"Shush, Clarissa. You can play around in a little, be a patient little girl now."

Clarissa nodded and still shook in her little shoes. Christine took out her ballet shoes, and Clarissa's as well.

"Put these on." Clarissa brightened at something to do and sat on the floor, taking of her little black boots to put on her special shoes.

"Ladies an Gentlemen!" Monsieur Firmin came on the other side of the stage. He glanced around, squinting slightly, until a mousy assistant gave him some spectacles. He placed his hands behind his back and surveyed his ensemble.

"We are here to announce who is to be in the upcoming production of Hannibal." The crowd tittered at the reprise they were to do. Christine gasped. This was the opera she had debued in, the one that had started her romance with Erik. It was the opera that had started everyone down a path to destruction and creation.

"As you all know, we have been in talks with Madame Carlotta to sing a reprisal for the role of Clarissa." Little Clarissa's head bobbed up. She leapt up, her ballet shoe ribbons dangling down, untied.

"Mama! My name!" Everyone hushed and looked to the curtain. Madame Giry threw her hands up and Monsieur Reyer groaned. Christine cursed.

When Firmin caught her eye he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. He let his arms fall to his sides. He could see her. She turned to flee, taking Clarissa's hands. But his shout stopped her.

"Mademoiselle Daae! Come back and join us, if you please." He didn't sound angry, or happy. She turned slowly, the giant cast followed their path to the stage. She stopped ten feet from him, and next to Meg. Meg gasped and hugged her.

Firmin looked Christine and Clarissa over. He smiled slightly at Clarissa peaking up at him.

"Bonjour. What is your name little girl?" She smiled proudly, Christine stood weakly.

"My name is," she started in a soft voice, "Clarissa!" The whispers grew louder. Meg bent down to her level.

"What a pretty name, Clarissa."

"The man said my name. Why did he say my name." Christine was still shaken when Clarissa looked up at her.

"Mama?"
"I told you to stay quiet!" She bent down to her level and Clarissa's lip quivered.

"You won't tell Papa, will you?" More whispers. "Who's the father?" she heard one saucy ballet girl whisper. She stood again.

"I am sorry to bother your meeting, Monsieur. I had wanted to speak to you in private. I should not have come." He looked intrigued.

"No please, stay. We're almost done here. I'll talk to you after our meeting." he turned to his captive audience. "So…the part of Clarissa goes to Carlotta." there were some groans, but he continued. "Madame Giry will cast the main ballet roles, and we will use Peter Andris as our new leading man." The chorus member who had been promoted looked shocked, and received pats of approval from friends.

"Now, rehearsals start this afternoon, let's make our grand opening a good one." He looked at Christine, then to Giry.

"Madame?" Madame Giry came up to Christine and took Clarissa.

"I'll take her, go talk to him Christine." Christine reluctantly let go of her daughter, but soon realized she wouldn't miss her Mama. The cast was already surrounding her and praising her on her cuteness.

"Oh little girl! You are so cute! So pretty! Can you dance, little one?" The girls tittered away and Christine followed Firmin into the office he occupied near the stage.

He enclosed them inside and motioned for her to sit down. He took off his spectacles and gave them to the assistant that had trailed them.

"Leave us, Pierre." The little assistant ran off and Firmin sighed heavily as if a great burden was released off his shoulders. Christine fidgeted in her chair.

"So tell me…why have you returned her, Mademoiselle?"

"It's Madam now, Monsieur. Madam Daae."

"So you kept your last name? Well, I suppose you're a widow then?" He leaned in closer. "Was there a scandal?" She laughed, nervously.

"No, monsieur. My husband decided I should keep my last name, if I go back into singing. He is also very shy, but a composer." His eyebrows rose.

"Really? Well perhaps we shall have to hear his work sometime, eh?" She thought, you already have.

"Well, monsieur, I came to see if you had the opening for the lead soprano…but I see that Carlotta has come back…so I should go."

"Wait," he stopped her rising, " please. I only picked Carlotta because she is all we have in the area, willing to give it a shot. I…" He looked at a loss. He looked out the window.

"When Andre died, I decided that we should press on. He loved the opera, truly did. He loved you, Christine." He looked sadly at her.

"But, when his heart gave out after the fire…Well, he always wanted to know you were alright."

"I'm sorry to have caused worry." She lowered her head

"Well. I wish I could give you the part, Christine…but it's taken. If you come back for the next show perhaps…well I never thought I'd say this, but I wish the Phantom would come back and scare her off. If I would've know you were interested.." He sighed again then rose.

Christine shivered. Ask the Phantom to come back. She glanced around the room and found a peep hole in the office. She shook her head at it. He was there.
"It is alright, monsieur. I will go. Notify me if something happens." She trailed after him out of the office and onto the stage.

Her little Clarissa was leaping about the stage with other ballerinas. They were all encouraging her and clapping. The chorus members were practicing their music.

The trumpeting elephant sounds…

Christine could remember her own debut, her nervous dancing…She called for Clarissa. The girls all groaned and pouted. Meg ran up to her.

"Oh Christine, please stay! She is so much fun. You've taught her so well." Madame Giry came up to them both.

"Christine, you have taught her well. I would be happy to continue the training." Christine looked around and hesitated.

"I-I would have to ask…my husband." Madame Giry nodded and Meg shrugged.

"With a talent like her, he should say yes. " Madame Giry shook her head.

"Maybe not, darling. He is a shy man, and so is Clarissa." Clarissa had gone back to Christine's skirts and hid behind them, while some other girls tried to coax her out.

"I must go. I'll return tomorrow to tell you our plan. Bonsoir." She walked out, head held high with little Clarissa skipping after.

Meg whispered to her mother. "Do you think she'll return?"

Madame Giry could only hope.